


Antihedron

by so_soft_boy, ymirjotunn



Series: Antihedron AU [1]
Category: Jacksepticeye Power Hour (Web Series), Markiplier TV (Web Series), jacksepticeye
Genre: Gore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Neck injury, Self-Inflicted Injury, Wrist Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_soft_boy/pseuds/so_soft_boy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymirjotunn/pseuds/ymirjotunn
Summary: James "Jackie" Boyce is an entirely normal twenty something with no job, few friends, and an uncertain future. When he takes matters into his own hands, he winds up getting much more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: Antihedron AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079807
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Awakening

Jackie is pretty sure he's screwed.

His phone is dead, his throat is dry, the sun is setting, and he hasn't seen another vehicle for hours. The last one to pass him by hadn't even slowed down for him. Jerk.

Maybe it was a bad idea to hitchhike across the country. He adjusts his backpack as he walks, shoes crunching on the sandy soil. Scratch that - it was _definitely_ a bad idea. He's never gone in much for good ones, anyway. Though, it's been far from a complete failure - he's made it all the way to Nevada, for fuck's sake. That's far from nothing.

His journey isn't going to end here, either, no matter how much the horrible little voice in the back of his head says it will. Someone else will pick him up again. They always have, so far. He can handle a night or two sleeping on the dirt - he has before, and probably will again. He repeats it like a mantra as the sun continues to sink: he's survived before, he will again. He survived before, he will again.

The sun is well set by the time he decides to give up for the night. The only other vehicles he's seen are serious-looking trucks that don't slow down for him. It would be nice to know where on earth he is, but his phone still only flashes its dead battery sign at him. Music would be nice. Even the shouted conversation over an engine in desperate need of repair had been better than the not-quite silence, the natural sounds of a desert waking up. Coyotes wouldn't eat a living person, right, even if they were asleep? Are there even coyotes here, or something else? He didn't think to check in his research before he left. 

He gets into his sleeping bag a little ways from the road, tucked out of sight behind a small hill. The last thing he needs now is cops finding him sleeping all the way out here. Too many questions, and no true answers that they'd like. Fingers crossed that the local wildlife leave him be as well. Despite everything on his mind, it doesn't take long for him to fall into an exhausted slumber.

When he opens his eyes again, it's still dark, but there's a green glow in the air. It seems to be coming from the highway. A dream? He has realistic ones often enough, but usually not in the same place he fell asleep in. There's something else though, a voice on the edge of hearing, or perhaps just in his head. Calling for him. Something wants him to come to it. He shimmies out of his sleeping bag, and slings his backpack over his shoulders. It's insistent, almost desperate. It's scared. It's alone. It doesn't have much time. It doesn't say any of that, but he can feel it in the tone, knows it in his bones. A dream, then. It has to be.

"I'm coming," he says aloud, rolling up his bag to hitch to his pack. If he's sleepwalking, he doesn't want to lose it. "Where are you?"

The light, of course, he has to follow the light. That's obvious. When he crests the small rise he sees it in the middle of the road, the tear in space. His way in. The ring of neon light leads to a room, claustrophobically small. As he gets closer, the voice gets clearer.

_Please, Dreamer._

He's hit with the certainty that he's the only one that can do this. The only one who can free the being pleading for their life. He stumbles. If not him, they might be trapped forever, trapped like they've been trapped for unknown years, confined and alone. He knows how it feels. Has already felt the same way. That's why he's out here, after all, under a starry sky instead of in a bed in a room that feels more like a cell, more like a grave than a home. He walks faster.

In front of the tear, though, he hesitates. What if this is real? Weirder stuff has happened - not to him, specifically, but he's heard about it. People born different, growing up with powers out of the pages of comic books. Fights between people with honest to god superpowers, heroes and villains duking it out for the good of the people, justice, things like that. Rumors about that got hushed up pretty quick in his town, but they couldn't hush up the entire internet. There's bad guys out there, bad guys with powers he can only imagine: is he walking into some kind of trap?

No, of course not. It's dangerous, certainly, but he won't be alone once he's in there. The being that opened the portal is powerful, more powerful than anything he’s heard of, and it wants to share that power with him, so that they can both be free. All they need is for him to break the seal, and they'll both be more powerful than he's ever dared dream of being. And on top of that...

_James - Jackie - you're the only one who can._

A few minutes later, a truck rumbles across the empty space where a boy once was.

* * *

As soon as Jackie steps into the room, alarms start blaring. Great. 

At least what he's there for is immediately obvious. It's definitely the strange... form, floating just above some sort of plinth. Constantly changing shape, it glows with the same neon green light he saw ringing the portal. It hurts his eyes to look at it directly, but there’s hardly any time to take it in. Even if there were, what else is there to say about it? It's an unknowably fucked up shape, whatever, _you get those a dime a dozen in lower planes. Hurry! They won’t be content just watching for long._

Jackie stumbles forward, hands digging through his pockets, alarms shrieking in his ears. He can hear the voice more clearly now, somewhere between coming in through his ears and creeping in through the back of his head. He knows what it needs to break the seal. The same thing that created it. Blood like his, a Dreamer's blood, potent with the magic of a world between worlds. An in-between body to break an in-between seal. Three hundred years of waiting finally at an end. 

_Please. You know how to do this._

He does know. He's done it often enough. He rolls his sleeve up his scarred arm and flips open his knife. For a moment, his vision blurs, and when he scrubs a hand over his eyes it comes away wet. The being is so relieved it's crying through him. 

"I hear you, just hold on."

It hurts, but it's a familiar kind of pain. The first blood drips onto the Antihedron - oh, that's what it's called - and the reaction is immediate. The shape expands, shifting points of light shooting towards him, into his open arm, and the pain is replaced by a soothing coolness, then more of that same overwhelming relief, now colored with the kind of unrestrained joy he hasn't felt since he was too young to understand there were reasons to feel sadness. He's laughing now, and it's laughing with him, and now he _really_ knows that it was right to do this, that it was right to free this being. They're the same, underdogs looking for a way out, a way to get back at the world that has only ever slighted them, and they're going to do it together.

They need to get out of here fast, though. It took more blood than this to make the Antihedron, took the lives of two others like him. And it is still angry over their unjust deaths. No amount of time could temper the rage it feels. There’s time for that later, though, because those deaths alone weren’t enough to keep it in, the cage is feeding off what's inside it - the Anti bit, Jackie decides. Like antimatter, something powerful and opposite anything known. 

His wrist isn't enough. Not enough blood, not direct enough a connection to transfer the energy that needs to come out before Anti as a whole can be released. The hedron is a finger trap of a prison that tightens the harder it tries to escape. But with Jackie, it can slip free. It just needs more blood.

He's practiced the motion before, contemplative, cold steel on his neck, wondering if he could push just a bit further to get out. Here in the dreamlike light it seems easy just to push that bit further and pierce the skin. The shifting shape stabs into his neck in the wake of his blade, filling him with more of that euphoric energy, raw power coursing into him.

_Get ready._

He barely has time to understand what to get ready for before his eye explodes in agony. His bloodied hand slams over it, feeling it pulse in time with the waves flowing into him. There's a horrible, high-pitched wail ringing in his ears that takes a moment to resolve itself into a scream, _his_ scream, echoing in his head even louder than the sirens going off around him.

_I know, I'm sorry, it's nearly over._

Nearly isn't soon enough. It feels like his skull is burning from the inside out, and he staggers backwards, but it isn't enough to sever the connection. It's already done. He has the eye. 

The world blurs. Something is happening in front of him. The Antihedron shudders, shatters, its green glow dimming. A glow starting in something else, in the shine of blood on the floor, forming itself into a shape, a body, reaching for him.

_Wait! D--'-! -o-'ll -_

It's getting harder to hear it. The whole room is spinning. Everything hurts so much. He needs to go somewhere safe.

_-l--s- d-n'- -o!_

That's it. Where he's been trying to go this whole time. He's so close to the end of his journey, it can't stop here. He just has to get _there_ and everything will be okay. That guy can fix anything, right?

The world fades around him, and he's gone before he can hear the anguished scream of what he's left behind. 

Hundreds of miles away, Marvin Mallon hears a thump on his patio and wonders if today's the day it all starts going to shit.


	2. The Magnificent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin receives an expected surprise.

It's one thing to know that something is going to happen. To have an understanding of an event long before the people involved are even born.

It's another thing to be able to witness that event, to feel it as keenly as if it were happening. To replay it in your mind until it feels like some sort of recurring nightmare, unable to glean any more meaning from it but still going back, just in case.

It's yet a whole _other_ thing for that event to finally happen. Marvin is currently experiencing the third, and wishes he wasn't. Yes, it had to happen eventually, but that doesn't mean he has to be _happy_ about it. 

He knows Jackie is smiling, because of _course_ he is, waving weakly at him through the glass of his patio door. He throws it open and Jackie collapses into his arms, muttering something incomprehensible. 

"It's okay, I have you now." Marvin's fairly certain he's not lucid enough to understand anything he's saying, but at least the tone might be comforting. 

Scooping Jackie up, he's struck by just how fragile he seems. Eyes half open, breath ragged, cold as death. He knows that Jackie survives this, he has to, but it seems so unlikely like this. He mutters a quick healing spell for the worst of the damage, but it doesn't seem to take. Jackie might not have enough energy in him to be able to heal. To Henrik's, then, and fast. Jackie's gotten enough blood on his carpet already.

He knows he goes to Henrik next. But from there... From there he doesn't know what happens. That's the worst part of all of this. Not knowing, and not even knowing exactly why he doesn't know. Jackie stays limp in his arms as he maneuvers out of his apartment and over to Henrik's front door. No one else is around at this hour, thankfully, or else this would be a lot more complicated. 

"Henrik!!" It doesn't take much to summon a mage hand to pound on his door. "Henrik, wake the fuck up!"

Jackie shifts, mumbling something that Marvin still can't make out. 

"It's gonna be okay," he whispers. "Henrik's gonna get you all fixed up." He's not sure he believes that, but for Jackie, he can at least pretend. He mutters another healing spell. The blood flowing from his neck has slowed to almost nothing, but that isn't necessarily a good sign. His heart could be giving out, for all that Marvin can tell. Healing isn't exactly a specialty of his.

Finally, there's sounds from inside. Henrik opens the door with his eyes barely open, glasses askew. He doesn't even bother with English as he asks what's happening.

" _Him_ , Henrik, look with your fucking eyes!" Marvin tries not to shout, but it definitely comes out louder than intended. "Hilf ihm, bitte, Henrik, _bitte_ \--"

"Jesus _christ_!"" Henrik _does_ yell as he takes in the figure in Marvin's arms, suddenly very awake. "What the fuck happened?"

"I don't know!" He wishes he did. He _should_ know. Things would be so much easier if he could just know more than the scattered bits and pieces he's managed to gather about this. "I opened the door and he was just there, like this."

Henrik curses under his breath. "Put him here."

It's not exactly a hospital room, but it's about as close as you can get to one in an apartment. Marvin lays Jackie on the examination table, reluctant to let go. It's not like he can do anything useful holding him. He half expects Jackie to reach for him, but he stays still save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. 

Now that he can properly gauge the wounds, the damage isn’t quite as extensive as he thought. His throat is slit, as well as his wrist, but beyond that he's intact. That's something, at least. Henrik has gloves and a mask, now, and hands one to Marvin as well before inspecting the wound on his neck.

"Well this is... unusual."

"What?" 

"He's healing."

"He is?" Marvin didn't think his spells had taken hold. None of his magic is lingering in Jackie's body, but Henrik is right, the wound has mostly closed, and even as they watch, appears to be scarring over.

"But that's..."

"Impossible, it seems. He should be dead." Marvin glares at him, but Henrik just shrugs. "It's true. No typical human could survive that. And honestly, he may still not."

"But he's--" Marvin can't say 'fine' in any sense. "But he's healing!"

"He's still lost a lot of blood. Too much blood." Henrik checks his pulse, and tsks. "His heart is fluttering. Even with a sudden healing aspect, or magical healing, his body just doesn't have enough blood left in it. You don't know his blood type, do you?"

"No. But I can do you one better. Get me a scalpel."

Marvin would much rather have one of his own ceramic knives for this, but there’s no time for that. At least the scalpel doesn't feel very magnetic. He'll still probably itch for a few days, but that's manageable .

"I could just draw your blood," Henrik chastises, but Marvin shudders. 

"Yeah, I'll pass." He's in no hurry to have metal _touching_ him for any longer than absolutely necessary, much less have it in him for an extended period of time. Sure, some metals are safer than others, but no metal entirely is even safer. Also, Henrik had better not be stocking needles he can use on Marvin. Sure, they're friends, but the harder it is for the doctor to get his blood, the better.

The cut is quick, a flick of the wrist to draw enough blood to magic with. He reaches for Jackie's neck, and 

"A̷̫͖̟̱̎̒o̸̲̰̤͊d̷̻͚̓̈́̎h̸̫̬͇̔̾͠ͅf̵͈̱̮͗͜ḯ̵̛̙͉͌̀o̸̦̥̽͜n̵͔͇͚̚͜n̴̡̜̼̗̎."

Time seems to stand still. Jackie's eyes flutter open, his left glowing a searing, swirling green that makes Marvin feel sick. His head stabs with pain, but he can't tell if it's at the use of his true name or the horrible aura rolling off Jackie in waves. His mouth moves, but the voice that comes out isn't one Marvin has ever heard before, not even in his visions of the future.

"I̷̼̚ ̷̹̯̫͊ñ̶̩͚̗͘ȅ̴̜̑̍͝ë̸̟̻́̌̍͠d̵̼͖̳͇̀̾ ̶̥̱̜͎̆͆̓ḣ̶̪̝͝ͅi̵͇̎̈m̵͍̖͋,̸͚͔͖̹̎," Jackie-not-Jackie coughs. " _̸̥͛K̵̗̯̩͝e̸͙̓͒͛̑e̷̮͆͜͝p̵̫͛̓̂́ ̴̡͕̺̇̔̿́h̸͙͔̉ỉ̶̠̣͇̋̃m̴̙͕̓͐ ̶̞̳̠̺͑̐̀s̸̫̺̅̌ả̴̼͉̻̗̿f̶̙́e̷͉͠.̸͙͇͈͑_ "

Marvin wants to scream "what do you think I'm _doing_ " but whatever it is that knew his name is gone again, the horrid presence fading, leaving the pressing weight of its command and a buzzing feeling all over his skin. 

"What on earth?" Henrik mutters, but Marvin can't give him answers yet. Blood flows from his wrist to Jackie's messy throat, chanting a healing spell he must have seen at one point but hardly thought he had memorized. Goddamn true name bullshit. 

Fae blood is potent stuff. He might not have the same properties as something like a unicorn, but “nearly as good as something that can grant immortality” is pretty damn impressive. Jackie's breathing evens out, his pulse grows stronger and steadier, and Marvin knows he's done when the weight of the command stops hammering into his head relentlessly. He sweeps a finger over the cut, stemming the flow of blood, and promptly collapses.

When he comes to, he's on the ground, Henrik holding him partially upright, radiating concern.

"Oh, great," Marvin groans. "I'm in hell."

"I see your wit is intact," Henrik sighs. "I should have spared my worry."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm doing terrible. It's just that you're worse."

"Really, I shouldn't be surprised. If not for me you'd have cracked your skull open and this is the thanks I get.”

Marvin tunes out as Henrik helps him get unsteadily to his feet, and he doesn't protest to being set down in one of the shitty chairs in the room. Jackie seems to be doing much better, breathing slow and even, deeply asleep. If he concentrates, Marvin can still feel some of the strange energy coming off of him, centered in that green eye. It's not triggering the command he got, though, so it must not be hurting him, at least. Eventually, he starts listening again.

"Marvin! Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Gotta be honest, doc, I'd love if you could just shut up."

He must sound bad enough that Henrik humors him, leaving him to examine Jackie. It isn't long before he starts muttering again about how "unusual" the whole situation is. 

For a bit, at least, Jackie takes all of his attention, cleaning and bandaging the scabbing wounds. Hopefully his new healing factor comes with a strengthened immune system. He makes a few final checks before covering him with a blanket and offering Marvin a hand. Marvin rises without it, then stumbles, and silently acquiesces to being helped into Henrik's living room, to a much more comfortable chair. Henrik is silent for once, but he’s putting his kettle on for tea, which unfortunately means he's getting ready to talk much, much more.

"I have some questions."

"I probably have some lies for you."

Henrik sighs heavily. "You carried a near-corpse into my home, the least you could do is tell me some half truths."

Marvin grins. "I can do half truths." 

"First of all, what _happened_ to him?"

"I honestly don't know." Henrik looks at him incredulously. "Really! Trust me, I'd love to know too."

"So we wait for him to wake up?" he asks, gesturing back towards the room. The door is ajar, so if he wakes up, they ought to know about it. For now, he seems sound asleep.

"Pretty much."

"All right." Henrik runs a hand through his hair, brow furrowed. "What happened, in there?" 

"I healed him."

"That's not what I meant. For starters, you've said this friend of yours - Jackie, yes? Doesn't have any anomalous attributes."

Marvin shifts uncomfortably. "It could be some sort of... life-saving healing factor? That no one would have known about until now?" 

"Possibly. That's far from the only unusual thing, though, isn't it?"

"If you don't stop calling things 'unusual' soon, I'm going to have to take your tongue, Henrik."

"Unique, then. Exceptional. Whatever you like."

"I don't like any of them."

"You've never told him your true name, have you?"

Marvin doesn't flinch. That would be tantamount to admission. "That hardly seems relevant."

"Please don't bullshit me, Aodhfionn."

Marvin rises and is in Henrik's face in an instant, snarling, "don't you _dare_. I'll _kill_ you."

Then he collapses back into his chair, head spinning. He _hates_ humans interacting with true names. They don't understand. Other fae know how rude it is to even _imply_ they know something other than someone's chosen name, but humans just love to disregard etiquette. At least Henrik has the decency to look ashamed about it.

"I apologize, that was uncalled for."

Marvin motions for him to continue. A "please" type command is easy enough to squirm out of, but he'd prefer not to, given how tired he is.

"And you may bullshit me as much as you like. It won't happen again."

"It better not." 

A moment of uncomfortable silence settles between them as Henrik's kettle comes to a boil. Henrik is blessedly quiet as he makes tea for them both, giving Marvin a moment to think. Whatever happened to Jackie has to have something to do with that voice that knew his name, but Marvin has no idea who it could be. The only thing familiar about it or the energy it gave off was... the sear. He touches his mask gently. The sear was unfortunately familiar. Lesser, certainly, but horribly similar to the sear of the Light that took his eyes to give him Sight. That voice, however, was much different.

Henrik sets a pair of mugs on his coffee table, and sits heavily onto his couch.

"Whatever spoke to you in there wasn't your Jackie, was it?" he asks.

"No." Marvin is too tired to lie or offer more information. Henrik can put things together on his own.

"There was something else. For just a moment, then it was gone. Did it do that to him?"

"Maybe."

"Then..." Henrik starts mumbling, and Marvin lets his soft voice flow gently over him. He would like to drink the tea Henrik made, but that involves more movement than he's willing to attempt. It's much easier to just relax... and... drift off... 

He's vaguely aware of Henrik tucking him in as well, before turning the lights off, and he falls asleep again quickly.

When he wakes up, it's to Jackie shouting in the other room.

* * *

Anti rages.

Fuck the institute and their containment bullshit. He was contained enough without their piddling interference, more of an annoyance than anything. An annoyance he'd like to leave behind as fast as possible, all the same, but there's several inches of lead between him and that dream. Already his fresh new claws are broken, and he doesn't have the strength to regrow them, barely has enough to keep them from bleeding, even. Streaks of black blood trail off after the gouges in the metal. 

He stalks away from the door, kicking at one of the shattered cameras on the ground. It hurts. Someone is still looking at him anyway, somehow. He can tell, but he can't stop them. Goddamn it. Goddamn it. God. Damn. It.

Howling, he charges back towards the door to slam his shoulder into it. Nothing happens. Again. Nothing happens. 

Again. Again. Again.

Much later, the door opens while he's busy panting, collapsed in a corner. Anti looks up and glares, but that's all he has the energy left for.

The man who enters isn't imposing. He has the quiet, tense air of someone who is trying hard to be, and failing at it. He carries a clipboard and a pen with the practiced ease of an absolute fucking nerd. Not a threat. 

The person who comes in behind him is far more interesting. They must be seven feet tall, at least, resting their weight on crutches, wearing a full-face mask with a simple smiley face drawn on it. Nonchalance on them is more threatening than anything the clipboard guy could possibly muster. Regardless, he seems to think he's in charge. 

"My name is Doctor Iplier. I'm here to help you."


	3. Of Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie wakes up.

Jackie is dreaming of loud noises and green light. Of blood and pain. In his dream there is someone - who? There is someone important reaching out to him, and then they're gone.

In their place is an eye. Bare, exposed, almost human if not for the green sheen covering it. A tail flows out from it like a loose optic nerve. It blinks at him. Jackie couldn't say how, exactly, he just knows that it _has_ blinked.

Then he wakes up. 

He's not someplace he recognizes, which isn't good. He does appear to be intact, if sore, so there isn't reason to panic just yet. Last he remembered he was... driving with that trucker who insisted Jackie reminded him of his daughter? No, that's not right. The country-only convertible? Not that one, either. Last time he was awake was in... Nevada, that's right. In the middle of nowhere. Sleeping in the open again.

Backpack. That's when the panic starts to creep in. He does a frantic scan of the room - it looks like a doctor’s office, a little bit, maybe more like a room which is trying to look like a doctor's office. His backpack is there, on the counter lining one wall. From here it looks dirty but mostly intact - his sleeping bag is even still hooked to the bottom of it. That's one less thing to worry about. There's still the chance that someone has gone through it, but when he goes to get up, several pains suddenly make themselves known. If he could just reach it... It's too far, but he stretches his hand out for it anyway.

Gently, his backpack slides off of the counter, hangs suspended in the air, and slowly floats into his outstretched palm.

For a moment all he can do is stare at the floating backpack. Gingerly, he grabs one of the straps, and the whole thing falls to the floor, nearly taking him with it.

Did that really just happen? He has to take a second to lie back down, catching his breath, but when he sits back up and reaches for it again, it floats back up to him, and this time he's able to scoop it into his lap before it falls. 

He's heard of late bloomers but most of the time those are like - Spiderman shit. Exposure to some sort of an anomalous force outside of themselves. Is that what happened to him last night? Is that why he can't remember anything?

Experimentally, he holds the backpack up and thinks about it moving away from him. It does so, going back to land on the counter again with a soft thump.

"I have powers," he whispers to himself, testing it out. He reaches out for a drawer, and it opens with a rattle. "I have powers." He says it louder, opening a cabinet door. More drawers and cabinets open, their contents lifting just slightly, the room taking on a greenish glow. 

"I have powers! I finally have powers!"

It's at this point that Marvin bursts through the door, and Jackie is almost too caught up in the revelation to find that unusual. Almost. All the doors and drawers slam shut, and his backpack thunks to the floor as he loses concentration.

"Marvin?"

"Jackie?" He's hesitating in the doorway, stiff like he isn't sure what he's doing with his limbs. His unkempt hair falls along his shoulders like a mane, and his eyes almost glitter behind his mask. Jackie feels like he's dreaming again. Ignoring his body’s protests, he slides off the bed and lands unsteadily, turning his near fall into momentum towards Marvin, practically careening into him.

"Marvin!" He nearly bowls them both over, but Marvin rallies magnificently, bracing himself on the door frame before returning the overenthusiastic hug. God, he's even taller than Jackie had imagined.

"You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jackie says, pulling away just enough to talk without being muffled by Marvin's chest. Several stabs of pain across his body protest to the contrary, and he can't stop himself from wincing. Marvin must notice, because he frowns severely.

"No, you're obviously not," he says, gently herding Jackie back towards the half-bed, half-medical table he woke up on. "You need to lie back down."

Jackie is reluctant to let go, but he can feel his legs shaking from the brief bit of standing he's been doing. Marvin helps him get back up, then drags a chair over to his side. As soon as Jackie gets his breath back, he has questions to ask.

"God, it's good to see you, but, uh, where is this?" 

"My apartment," an unfamiliar voice says from the doorway. Both of them turn. There's an exhausted looking man leaning against the doorframe. There's a man leaning against the doorframe, radiating exhaustion. "If you could keep it down, that would be fantastic. I was up all hours saving your life."

"Saving my...." It seems like thanks should probably be in order, but he's not sure for what, exactly. "What happened?"

Marvin sighs. "We were hoping you could tell us. You showed up on my patio on the brink of death. You're lucky I live next to Henrik here."

"You're lucky to have some sort of healing factor, more than anything." 

"I have a healing factor too?"

"We don't! Know to what extent!" Marvin interjects, almost frantically. 

"I wasn't planning on testing it!" Jackie laughs, and then winces again. "Why do I still feel like shit, then?"

"Accelerated healing still requires recovery time, especially from something as dramatic as that," Henrik supplies. "You will be sore for the next few days at the very least. You are welcome to stay here for part of that, but I do ask that you be quiet."

Jackie thinks about all the cabinets slamming shut at once and flushes. "I'll try to keep it down."

"Good. Let me have a look at you before I go back to sleep. Make sure nothing has reopened."

Jackie still feels like he's in one piece, but there's no harm in checking. While Henrik is doing that, Marvin asks, "What _do_ you remember?"

"Not much, really, sorry." He explains how he wound up where he last remembers being, but gets hung up again on last night. "I remember colors and like... an eye? I'm not sure if that was a dream or not, though." 

"An eye..." Marvin mutters, but doesn't provide anything else on the subject. 

"Physically, you are intact," Henrik says. "If you were conscious for whatever happened to you, perhaps the memory will return, perhaps not."

"I'll let you know if I remember anything else, at least."

Henrik rubs his chin, clearly thinking of something, but whatever it is, he takes it with him out of the room. Jackie slumps back against his pillows and sighs.

"I'm surprised he isn't telling me to go to the hospital."

"Do you _want_ to go to the hospital?" Marvin asks.

"Not really," Jackie admits. He really, _really_ doesn't want to, to be perfectly honest. "I feel tired, more than anything. I'm sore. My neck hurts the most."

He reaches up to touch it, and recoils briefly at the feeling of scar tissue. "Fuck," he mutters, and Marvin reaches out to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. Jackie traces the line with his fingers - the raised skin is sensitive to the touch, and goes all the way across his throat. "What _happened_?"

"We'll figure it out," Marvin says, gentle but firm. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates from here out are going to be a bit slower, but the next few chapters are nearly finished.  
> thank you for reading!


	4. Getting Settled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackie moves in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took longer! next few chapters should be quicker, as they're already written. this one's a bit of a breather before some more exciting stuff !

"Thank you for letting me stay with you," Jackie says as they enter Marvin's apartment. "I mean, I know you said I could that one time, but I thought you mighta been joking."

"Of course not. I wouldn't joke about something like that," Marvin says. 

His apartment is tidy, and though there aren't any lights on there's enough sunlight coming through the windows that it's quite well lit. From here Jackie can see the kitchen and living room, lined with bookshelves. 

"No roommates aside from Henrik's occasional intrusion, so there's plenty of space," he says, resting his hand on Jackie's shoulder for a moment. "The spare room's all yours. Sheets haven't been used, but they also haven't been washed in a bit, so if they seem dusty just run them through the wash. Anything you brought with you can go in there too, whatever you need." He steps around Jackie to move to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I'm putting tea on."

"Tea sounds good, to me. Where's the laundry?" 

"First door on your left. The spare room is the next one."

Jackie nods, adding, "Got it!" when he remembers Marvin can't actually see him. He steps into the room and slings his backpack off his shoulder. As he goes to unzip it, though, he wonders if he can move smaller things with his powers. He's been experimenting as quietly as possible in Henrik's apartment for the past few days, but that's mostly been throwing his sleeping bag around. He focuses, and the zipper glows with a faint green light that he's come to expect from his powers. For a moment, it moves smoothly, and then Jackie grins in excitement and the zipper tab promptly snaps off. 

"Fuck!"

Jackie hears a concerned "Everything all right?" from the kitchen, and immediately feels silly for shouting. 

"I'm fine!" Jackie calls back, a little sheepish. "I just fucked up my backpack, is all."

The tab is nowhere to be seen now. He can fix the zipper with a bit of string or something, as long as he doesn't destroy it any more than he already has. He finishes opening his backpack with his hands, grabs the few clothes he had brought with him, and throws them in the wash. He starts to take his pants off, and hesitates. Marvin can't see him, sure, but is it, like, _ethical_ to traipse around in just boxers without the other knowing? It seems rude.

He sticks his head back out of the laundry room. "Do you mind if my tits are out? All my clothes really need washing."

Marvin steps out of the kitchen, smiling. "Well, unless you're covered in enchanted oils or shove them directly in my face, I won't be able to see them anyway, so you can have them out as much as you like, I'd say."

Enchanted oils? If he focuses on that he won't be thinking about putting his chest in Marvin's face, and the less he thinks about that, the better. It's hard to tell whether he's joking or not sometimes, but he seems lighthearted enough that Jackie's inclined to believe that he is. If he's not though that means - what? He can see magic? He can _only_ see magic? He knows Marvin must have some sort of powers, but he doesn't know what exactly and it's always seemed rude to ask outright.

"Bathroom's at the end of the hall if you need to shower," Marvin continues. "Though tea's almost done if you can wait."

"I can wait." Though he really does need one. Showers have been few and far between, as well as beds, and dusty sheets or no he's looking forward to sleeping in a real bed-ass-bed. He strips down and starts the laundry. It'll be good to have clean clothes again. 

When he steps out into the living room, Marvin turns to follow the sound of him, and Jackie shivers reflexively. He gives the impression of looking through people rather than at them. It's a bit uncanny, and the mask doesn't help.

"Clean clothes?" Marvin says suddenly, and Jackie blinks. "That is to say, do you need them? We could... go to the clothes store, if you need. You're welcome to anything of mine, but I can't say it'll fit you well."

He grins. Jackie grins too. He'd be practically swimming in any of Marvin's clothing, not that he'd object to that. Boyfriend clothing is nice, though it wouldn't be, technically speaking, though he wouldn't mind if it was... He drags his train of thought back to the conversation. 

"I don't really have the money to go clothes shopping right now," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "I do have some in the box I sent you, that should be good for now."

"Oh, I was offering to get for you. I figured you'd not have much to your name after gallivanting across the States with nothing but the bag on your back. The box is in your room as well. I kept it next to the bed."

Marvin is smiling as he says it, but Jackie still winces. He's right that he doesn't have much to his name anymore. Most of what was important to him went into the box he sent to Marvin, and it's not that big a box. His game consoles, important paperwork, clothes. Even that much had been a risk to send.

"I don't think I can apologize or thank you enough," he says. It had been a somewhat planned impulse decision to hitchhike to Marvin's place, but he knows how much of a dick move it was not warning him beforehand. He was too scared to. Having come up with the plan, it seemed like the only real option he had, and if he had run it past Marvin and been rejected, then, well... If he was going to be rejected, it seemed easier for that to happen once he'd carried out his last-ditch plan, rather than before. Maybe that was a backwards way to go about it.

"I'm really sorry. I don't want to ask you for even more than you've already done for me."

Marvin frowns, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not--” He hesitates, and Jackie can feel his insides twisting up, waiting.

"Let me be clear," he continues, slow and purposeful. "You're not imposing. Not done any wrong at all. I was--” Jackie focuses on his hands, on his twisting fingers, rather than his face. “--dead worried about you, is all. I wish you'd asked for more, all right? I would've done it. Bought you a plane ticket. Or at least arranged some places along the way, reliable rides." His voice softens. "I would have picked you up myself if you'd let me. Don't think you're putting me out."

He turns to busy himself with the tea, and Jackie's thankful he's not looking in his direction anymore. That much sincerity aimed directly at him is a lot to handle. 

"You just have to ask, Jackieboy," Marvin says over his shoulder, and Jackie smiles at the nickname.

"Thank you," he mutters, then clears his throat and tries again. "Thank you, Marv. Really.”

Marvin is good. Like. Really good. Jackie knew that before but it's hitting him again, hard, and it's honestly making him tear up a little bit. He'd expected at least some yelling, but instead there's... this. This softness that Jackie isn't quite sure he deserves. In hindsight, it seems obvious that he should have asked for help, rather than let his stubbornness land him somewhere that nearly killed him. Without Marvin, he probably would be dead.

He's not dead, though. What doesn't kill you gives you powers, sometimes. He's lucky that he apparently operates on superhero logic.

For a moment Marvin is silent, and Jackie wonders if he'd heard or if he should repeat himself. Then he turns with the mugs of tea, and Jackie relaxes.

"It's really no problem," he says, taking a long sip from his own mug before handing Jackie his own. "Honestly, you'll be a welcome sight around here. Can get a bit boring with just one, and I wasn't about to room with Henrik."

Jackie chuckles as he accepts the mug from Marvin. "He doesn't seem so bad," A bit stiff, certainly, but he'd taken care of Jackie for free, even engaged him in theorizing about his new powers. "I can see why you wouldn't want to live with him, though."

From what he's seen in the scattered bits of time he's been awake, Marvin and Henrik seem to communicate through bickering. Jackie wonders how much more intense it is when there's not someone injured that they're both worried about. 

Jackie wanders to the living room, blowing on his tea to cool it before sipping. The heat feels good in his sore neck. He settles onto the couch with a sigh, and Marvin follows suit. He's been standing long enough that his joints are protesting again, but he can tough it out for a little while longer before laying down. Showering should help, too. 

"I don't get why I'm still so sore," he complains. "Surface level stuff, I get, but why do my _joints_ hurt?"

"I'm no doctor, but I wouldn't be surprised if that was one of the side effects of nearly being exsanguinated."

Jackie grimaces. He has a point. _Anything_ could have happened to him, and he'd be none the wiser. It's frustrating, being so much in the dark about something so monumental. He's been wracking his brain the past few days and still hasn't come up with anything more than what he woke up with. 

"We don't know what else happened to you, besides, or how you reacted to it. Any of that could've put stress on your joints,” Marvin says, raising his mug to his lips. “Let me know if it's still bothering you after the shower and I can see what I can do, or ask Henrik if all else fails."

“Painkillers might help. I don’t want to bother him again right after I’ve gotten out of his house, though.”

"He might grumble, but he really doesn’t mean it.” Marvin smiles. “I know it may not seem like it, but we've been very good friends for quite a long time."

“Lucky for me you guys are friends, too. How’d you even meet someone like that?”

"Circumstance," Marvin says, shrugging, "though circumstance is rarely the whole truth, is it? He was having trouble finding a book and had taken his frustrations out on a poor librarian - not entirely his fault, he was...” Marvin hesitates. “...under tremendous stress at the time. I helped him find another copy, and we kept in touch. We're in similar lines of work, so it's worked out well for us both. Didn't intend to live near each other, weren't even in the same country for a while, but it ended up like this."

He finishes his tea and sets it down, gesturing vaguely. "Again, circumstance, or something like it. Either way, he's obviously a valuable neighbor."

“No kidding. What book was it?”

From there they get to talking about his collection lining the walls of the living room until both their teacups are empty and Jackie reluctantly tears himself away to get a shower.

It's even better than he imagined it being, hot water cutting through at least a week of accumulated grime. The cuts on his wrist and neck sting a bit, but he hardly notices with how good it feels otherwise. After, he grabs warm clean clothes from the dryer and collapses into the bed. 

On the edge of sleep he realizes that he never told Marvin how he liked his tea. He just knew. With milk, no sugar. It doesn't seem like something that would have come up before, but he's talked to Marvin a lot over the past couple years. Sweet of him to remember, or maybe he's just really good at guessing. In the morning, he's forgotten it entirely.

* * *

"I'm back!"

When Jackie gets home, Marvin usually responds pretty promptly, but today the house is oddly quiet. Weird. Maybe he's taking a nap?

He sets the groceries down on the dining room table - he's taken to doing grocery runs for the two of them. Marvin used to get groceries delivered, but Jackie still likes going to the store, getting a feel for the area and the people in it on a small scale until he gets used to living here. They've settled into a comfortable rhythm since he moved in. Marvin doesn't seem to work, but also doesn't seem to be wanting for money. 

He wanders into the living room, glancing about for his housemate, and that's when he notices the cat. It's enormous, fluffy and white, basking in a sunbeam on the back of the couch. Jackie freezes. Since when does Marvin have a cat? Would he get a cat without telling Jackie? Well, he doesn't _have_ to tell Jackie anything, but it would be polite.

"Marvin?" he calls into the back. Still no answer. The door to Marvin’s room is cracked open, but when he carefully peers through, no one is in there. Not in his room either, though he really didn't expect him to be in there.

When he walks back into the living room, the cat is looking at him with blank blue eyes. And it has marks on its forehead. Jackie walks over to take a closer look and, yeah, it's the same markings as on Marvin's mask.

"Marvin?" he asks. The cat blinks at him. "You can. You can turn into a cat."

Marvin stares at him like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Can I. Pet you?" 

Marvin blinks again, and Jackie takes that as probably a yes. Tentatively, he reaches one hand out, and Marvin shuts his eyes and pushes up into his hand. Jackie scratches behind his ears, grinning. 

Then a thought pops into his head. What if Marvin _can’t_ turn into a cat? What if he’s been somehow cursed? What if he doesn’t even know he was a person? Oh god. Jackie cups Marvin’s little face in his hands in a panic. 

“You can turn back, right? Blink twice if you’re okay.”

The cat huffs, then blinks, long, slow, and deliberate. Then blinks again.

"Oh thank god." Jackie releases his face, and smoothes down some of the hair he had ruffled. "For a second I thought some sort of supervillain had turned you into a cat, and... That sounds a lot sillier when I say it out loud."

He walks around the couch to sit next to Marvin, stroking his back gently. "Still, you coulda warned me that this was something you can do."

Marvin gives a little _mrr_ , scooting closer to rub against Jackie with his cheeks. For a second Jackie thinks he's going to climb into his lap, but then he jumps off and heads towards the bedroom. Jackie rises to follow, and then thinks for a second about the logistics of changing back out of a cat form. Marvin isn't wearing clothes. Can he change back with them on? Does he have to get dressed after changing back? Either way, it seems like he doesn't want Jackie seeing him change, so he sits back down until Marvin calls from the other room.

"Did you put away groceries? Or did I distract you?"

"Oh, shit." He _had_ gotten distracted, but who can blame him? "I'll take care of those now."

There's not much to put away. Marvin has been quite vehement about Jackie not straining himself, and he isn't about to push the matter and accidentally reopen a wound. He uses his powers to open and close cabinets, just for the novelty of it. Of course, it's good practice, too.

When Marvin emerges in human form, Jackie wastes no time in launching into questions. "So how long have you been a cat?"

Marvin laughs, and Jackie grins. "That's not... not quite it, no. It's just a glamour. So I'm not a cat, really, I'm just convincing. I can do a few different forms, actually, but cat--" He taps the ear of his mask. "That's my favorite. Easily the most comfortable, often the most useful. Plus, I like the way it looks."

He pauses for a moment, frowning. "Should I have warned you? I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"It's okay!" Jackie waves his hands. "Just caught me off guard, is all." He's pleased with himself for catching on quickly, even though he did overreact a little bit.

Marvin's powers are really his own business, but Jackie can't help but be curious. Is that why he wears his mask all the time? Preference for his cat form? Or maybe he has to be wearing it to change at all, and he likes having it handy. Shapeshifting is such a cool power. But Marvin said it was a glamour, actually. Jackie's always thought about glamours disguising a form rather than changing it entirely, but what does he know about real-life glamours?

"You got any other cool powers I should know about?" he asks.

"You've seen my videos," Marvin teases, but he lifts a hand, twists his wrist, and a buttercup forms between his fingers. "Plenty of them are honest - human magic can be quite impressive - but I'd be lying if I said I didn't cheat a bit. It's more fun that way."

Jackie takes the flower and tucks it behind his ear. He has seen Marvin's videos - more times than is probably reasonable - but he's always assumed editing was involved, not actual magic.

"You can do real, actual magic, and you use it to make Youtube videos?" He laughs. It's charming, in a way. 

"Well, for fun, yeah, but sure I do lots of things with it. Most things, actually." He cocks his head, thinking for a moment. "Think of like.. the human default operates on interacting with... physical forces. My default operation is magic, and physical forces are something that I also happen to interact with. Does that make sense in English?"

"I think I get it, yeah." Jackie nods. There's an idea forming in his head that he's thought about before, about Marvin's tendency to say "human" like he isn't included in the category. He thought it was just a quirk of his; who hasn't felt alienated from humanity as a whole at some point? But now he's wondering if there's more to it than that. Operating with magic by default, casting glamours, struggling to explain things in plain English... "Does it make more sense in Irish? Or..."

He pauses for a moment, unsure how to phrase it. The question won't leave him alone, though, and he blurts "You're not human, right?" then immediately tries to backtrack. "I mean, that's a weird thing to ask, I didn't mean to say that, sorry, I meant, you're just--"

"No, no, you've got it," Marvin interjects, grinning broad. "I'm not human." 

Jackie sighs with relief, then actually processes what he's said. He's not human! People other than humans exist! That's so fucking cool!

"What do you think I am, Jackieboy?" Marvin asks, wandering over to the couch and settling in. Jackie follows, sitting on the edge of the couch so he can bounce his leg while he thinks. "Don't worry about offending me. I'm just curious."

What does he know? A nonhuman with magic narrows it down. Glamour narrows it down further. Some sort of witch or wizard would have been his first guess, but that can't be right.

"Not a witch, that's just a magic human," he says, still turning his thoughts over in his head. "Not a vampire either, you eat regular food and I literally just saw you sunbathing." In cat form, sure, but he's pretty sure the sunlight rules would still apply.

A kitsune would probably prefer a fox form by default over a cat, and Jackie can't think of any gods known for the traits he'd define Marvin by. There is the possibility that Marvin's something he hasn't heard of at all, but then it wouldn't be very fair asking him to guess. What seems most likely, and more in line with using glamours, is...

"Fairy?"

Marvin claps. "That's the one! Though I prefer _fae_ or _sídhe_. All the same thing, really. _People of the hills_ , if by _hills_ you mean the world just a layer underneath this one. I take it you've never met anyone else nonhuman before."

"No! Not that I know of, anyway." He has so many other questions, all bouncing around his head like pinballs. The ones that make it out are "Are there a lot of fae around? Is Henrik human or not? There's a _whole other world?_ "

Of course there's a whole other world. The Faewilds is just one of many, the closest to the physical plane.

Wait, how does he know that?

Know what?

As soon as he tries to focus on the thought, it's gone again amidst the buzzing.

"Not many here, no," Marvin says. "Nearly all of us stay in the Faewilds, I'm one of the very few who's more comfortable here than there. Henrik is as disappointingly run-of-the-mill human as he looks, but yes, of course there's other worlds. I'm surprised they aren't teaching that as a matter of course these days. You'd think, with all the..." He waves his hand vaguely. "Well, _everything_. How do they explain it to the public, if they aren't talking about the rifts?"

"Mostly they _don't_ explain it to the public. They don't talk about rifts, that's for sure." Jackie frowns. "There was one thing I remember being called a spatial disturbance, but that's the closest they get."

Rifts to other worlds, huh? It makes sense, in a way, and it makes sense that it'd be something kept on the down-low. The Institute probably knows the most out of anyone, but they hardly ever give explanations for anything. Plenty of people have their own guesses, from aliens to magic, and it's funny to hear that it's sort of a mix of both.

"Do you think that's what happened to me?" He wonders aloud. "Fell into a rift and came out with powers on our porch? That could explain how I got so far, too, right?"

"Could be," Marvin says, a little hesitantly. "I mean, it's not unheard of. You throw something into another plane, it comes out with different qualities, that's just how it works. But it's a bit unusual for a _human_ to get thrown into another plane entirely and..." He shrugs. "Come back out in one piece? The strange things that happen to humans are usually a result of things leaking _out_ of the rifts, not them going in."

"That, and," he adds. "Things that come out of rifts normally have a signature, like. Something identifiable that I can see or at least feel. You, well." He bites his lip in thought, and Jackie waits for him to continue. "It's not a bad theory. Just not a complete one. I know that you still don't remember anything, but is there anything unusual you've noticed in the time you've been here? Aside from the powers, I mean. Any... strange feelings? Presences that shouldn't be there, things happening that you're not consciously using your powers to cause, anything else you can't explain?"

"I don't think so?" He hates not being able to help. He's tried to keep an eye on things, but really, aside from having powers, nothing out of the ordinary has been happening to him. He's always had strange feelings, a conviction that comes and goes that someone is watching him, shadowy figures out of the corner of his eye. As much as he'd wanted to say that was proof he was special somehow, he’s more certain it was his brain playing tricks on him. He's talked to Marvin about it before, agreed that it's probably schizophrenia rather than anyone legitimately out to get him. It's a bit harder to shake those feelings when they crop up now that he _is_ different, but they feel the same as before.

The only thing he's noticed being different is the amount of dreams he's been having. His longtime recurring dreams about a city have become more consistent, bearing an eerie resemblance to the city he lives in now. There's another dream, about a green eye with a blue pupil watching him. He's still having dreams about the night he got his powers, too, but there aren't any new details that he can remember. Just an aching feeling of loss, like forgetting the name of a friend. 

"I guess I've been dreaming more?" he settles on. "I know that's silly, but it seems important. I keep waking up feeling like I'm forgetting somebody important. Is that anything?"

"It's... possible," Marvin says, more of an extended sigh than a sentence. "We've established that not every significant feeling you have _is_ necessarily significant, but I am inclined to say that significant feelings in relation to memory, specifically, might be more worth keeping an eye on. How would you feel about keeping a dream journal? It's possible that might help you with recall, and it's the only lead we have." He slumps against the cushions. "I'm sorry I don't already have the answer. Eighty percent of you is in my blind spot, and I don't understand why."

"I'm not great at journaling, but I can try if you think it might help. It's really okay though, I don't expect you to know everything." Jackie reaches over to rub Marvin on the leg as comfortingly as he can. Why he feels so compelled to have all the information all the time, Jackie doesn't know, just knows how distressing it is for him not to know. Until Jackie crash-landed in his life it seemed like he had all the answers, and now he's been presented with a big tangled mystery that neither of them know how to even begin to solve. Jackie's gone through most of his life in a state of vaguely not-knowing; he's pretty used to it. Marvin isn't.

"We'll figure it out." It feels weird being the one to reassure Marvin, but he seems so untethered when it comes to this. "Together, alright?"

Marvin seems to hesitate, staring off at something Jackie can't see. Then he turns and grins. "Right, we'll work on it. The truth can't hide from us forever."

* * *

Time passes. Time passes. Time passes. It's impossible to tell how much in this windowless room. People come and go. Come and go.

"I need food."

"You need to tell us what you eat."

Knowledge is power in this place. It's all the power Anti has over them at this point. They need to know what he does, and there's no pulling it out of him.

"Your femurs are broken."

Anti screams, collapses into a heap. Iplier's ability, he's learned, is to inflict diagnoses on people. He doesn't care for it.

"Are you healing okay?"

The masked figure - Wynn, is their name - limps over to his bedside, all sincere concern. They stay quiet while the doctor enacts his questioning, but they always check in afterwards.

"I need out of here."

A demand, a plea, repeated. Falling on deaf ears. Almost always. Wynn hesitates at the door this time.

"You keep telling me that. Why?"

"I'm dying."

They shift uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"I know the Doctor is hard on you, but--" 

"That's only part of it. You know, don't you?"

They're quiet for a long time. "Your cells die instantly upon being taken from your body. We still don't know what powers you, and you won't tell us."

"Not much. Not anymore." It's more than he's told any of them in the time he's been here, for all Iplier tries to drag it out of him. "It was taken from me. I need it back, or I'm dead."

"...I'll see what I can do."

And then he's alone, in a windowless room. Time passes. Time passes. Time passes.

**Author's Note:**

> more on this au can be found on my blog at https://ordinaryquip.tumblr.com/tagged/antihedron, or you can keep an eye on this if you want to see things in order!


End file.
